


Your Eyes Burn Like the Sky

by RedEyedQueen21



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Car Accidents, Character Death, Family, Family Drama, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Minor Character Death, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedEyedQueen21/pseuds/RedEyedQueen21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of sansprisedetete's (tumblr) assumption about werewolves eye color.<br/>“How are you going to explain what happened to you in New York? How do you think Isaac and Scott are going to feel?” Peter asked worriedly, his voice harsh but filled with concern.<br/>Derek held back the sob growing in the back of his throat, “I won’t have to explain it because Stiles won’t find out. And I doubt that Isaac or Scott would care.” He winced when he heard his voice crack at the last word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Eyes Burn Like the Sky

Isaac had just finished telling Scott about Peter siphoning Boyd’s memories, all the gruesome and twisted detail, mentioning how he empathized with Boyd about the pain and the feeling of being ripped in half.  
“That’s interesting.” Scott mused as they sat down to eat lunch.  
“It’s more freaky than anything I have ever went through or seen before.” Isaac admitted stirring soup around, “I don’t know which is actually easier to go through. Getting dunked in cold water or getting your spinal cord yanked by claws.”  
Scott frowned, a look of curiosity settled on him, “You said that Peter’s eyes were blue?”  
Isaac nodded, “Yeah?”  
Scott gave a soft hum, “Ever wonder why some werewolves have blue eyes and other have brown?”  
Isaac paused a for a moment, shrugged his shoulders and smirked, “Actually I never thought about it before. I know why werewolves have red eyes. But I just thought it was a genetic thing.”  
Scott shook his head, “I thought that too, but Jackson has blue eyes.”  
Isaac gave a small pout, “He also doesn’t know who is parents are. Maybe your bitten you get brown eyes, you’re born a werewolf you get blue eyes.”  
Scott looked like he was considering this to a be a fact, but something was still off, “Wait. That doesn’t make any sense.”  
“What doesn’t make any sense?” Stiles dropped down next to him, a plate full of curly fries and chicken strips scattered around his tray as he dropped his book-bag on the ground under the table. He looked between the two of them as they seemed to halt their conversation. “Is this a “No Stiles” conversation?”  
Isaac looked wearily at Scott for the answer, “No?”  
Scott shook his head.  
“No. Not at all.” He said it gain with more confidence, “We were just wondering why some werewolves have brown eyes and some have blue eyes.”  
Isaac missed the sound of Stiles’ heart skip, unfortunately Scott didn’t.  
He looked at his friend, a bit worried. “Why did your heart skip a beat?”  
Stiles looked at him, eyes growing dark and confused. “What? Do I have an arrhythmia or something?” He took a violent bite of his chicken strip, “You should know this dude, your mom is nurse. You never became interested in reading anything about cardiology? I know she has those CCRN books laying around. You could-”  
“Stiles.” Scott knew when his friend began to off tangent he was either nervous or agitated. “Your heart beat went faster.” He clarified, studying his friend for a moment before continuing. “Do you know why werewolves have blue or brown eyes?”  
Now it was Isaac’s turn to look surprised as he saw Stiles’ face cloud with annoyance at Scott. He was used to Stiles being fed up with Scott, but never annoyed or angry.  
It was a little jarring.  
“Drop it, Scott.” Stiles warned, his voice heavy as steal.  
Scott looked hurt and confused, “What? Why? It’s just a question! An innocent one!”  
“Just drop it, okay?”  
Scott was taken back as if his best friend had just slapped him, “You’ve never kept a secret from me. Why now?”  
Stiles jaw dropped as his face became red with anger, “Do I have to tell you every little freaking thing? Not everything involves you Scott. Why don’t you get that?”  
Scott looked livid, his eyes glowed brown as Isaac could feel Stiles’ anger tenfold. He looked around the cafeteria to see if anyone had noticed Scott’s glowing eyes or the fact that these two best friends were fighting.  
“Um, guys?” Isaac’s eyes looked around the room, hoping that Alison or Lydia weren’t nearby to witness their fighting unfold, “Do you have to do this now?”  
Scott ignored him, snorting at Stiles, “That’s pretty thick coming from you! You always stick your nose in others’ business!” He crossed his arms, “Even when they don’t want you to fig-” Scott paused, his mind reeling about what had happened this past summer. He had hardly seen Stiles since he was mostly at summer school. And when they did see each other it was brief. All he knew was that Stiles had spent a lot of time with -.  
“Derek. Did Derek tell you not to tell me?” Scott asked incensed at the fact his best friend was protecting a guy who had been a jerk for the past two years to them. He could see Stiles’ stance falter a bit. “He did, didn’t he?”  
Stiles bit his lip, “No.” he answered honestly.  
“Then why can’t you tell us?”  
“Because I promised Derek.”  
Scott frowned, “So he did tell you not to tell us.”  
Stiles rolled his eyes; he really hated having to pick sides when it came to Derek and Scott. “No.” he said again, “I figured it out on my own. Once I did I told him I wouldn’t tell anyone. It wasn’t my thing to tell.”  
The answer didn’t seem to ease Scott’s worry or curiosity, “So how did you figure it out?”  
Stiles gave him a broken smile as he picked up his book-bag and tray, “You know me Scott. I always stick my nose in others’ business.”  
Isaac flinched at his tone, watching silently as Scott’s shoulder slump in despair as he watched Stiles walk away from them. “Scott?” he said the other boy’s name calmly.  
“They’re different.” Scott muttered.  
“Who?”  
Scott laid his chin on the table, “Stiles and Derek. They told me they were working together, but I didn’t know how much. They almost seem too comfortable around each other.”  
Isaac shrugged, he had seen Derek’s wall breakdown bit by bit during the summer and didn’t want to admit that Stiles could have had a hand in it. There was one day during the summer that seemed to change the dynamic of Stiles and Derek’s relationship. The next day, there seemed to have been a mutual understanding between the two of them. Like they were allies.  
Or friends.  
“You think they’re friends?” He heard an upset Scott asked.  
He did not mean for that one to slip.  
“When the hell did that happen?” Scott looked distraught, as if someone had just told him his puppy had been sold.  
Isaac just shrugged as he looked through the cafeteria’s giant windows, he could see Stiles leaning on his jeep talking to someone on his phone. He didn’t want to tell Scott that he was talking to Derek. He took a sip of his soda before he answered Scott, “Over the summer.” 

Early July…  
Stiles set down the drink carrier filled with three lemonade smoothies onto Derek’s table, along with a box of doughnuts. “Alright, I got drinks, food, and” he dropped his book-bag onto the floor and pulled out three folders, “Erica and Boyd’s missing police report. Updated.”  
Peter snatched the folders quickly from the younger boy’s hand, earning him a small hiss of pain from Stiles, “Dude, papercut!” Stiles hissed as he sucked on the cut finger.  
Peter paid him no mind as he pushed Stiles aside and opened the box of doughnuts, “Ooh, jelly filled.” He cooed, picking the sickening sweet pastry.  
Stiles was way too used to his lack of caring by now, but still couldn’t resist sassing the older man. “Oh no, don’t worry about me, just a cut. I’ll heal..eventually. And you’re welcome for buying you your favorite doughnuts.” He deadpanned.  
Peter took a big bite out of his doughnut, “Jelly filled aren’t my favorite.” He spoke with his mouth full. Getting bits of the doughnut on Stiles.  
The younger boy flinched in disgust as he flicked the pieces off, “You said last week jelly doughnuts were your favorite.”  
Peter smiled, “Well they aren’t anymore. I like crème filled now.” He snapped his fingers, “Seriously Stiles, people can change, so can their taste. You better get on top of that.”  
Stiles closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He and Peter had reached a somewhat beautifully awkward stage in their relationship. There was no fear, threats, manipulations, or hate.  
It was just pure clash of sarcastic a-hole versus sarcastic a-hole.  
“You’re annoying.” Stiles groaned, “And rude. And oh my God, am I happy I never let you bite me.”  
Peter looked up from the file, his eyes zeroing in on Stiles. A growing and mischievous grin growing on his face. He set the doughnut and file down. “Really?” he stepped closer to Stiles and gave the boy credit for not stepping back. “That’s rather disappointing.” He lifted his hand close to Stiles’ cheek before dropping it down again. “I think you would have made a great werewolf. Probably the bravest and smartest.”  
Stiles huffed; the honesty in Peter’s voice hit him hard. “Well I’m not a werewolf. Disappointed?” He tried to ignore the look of hurt in Peter’s eyes. He was hoping he could go back to their usual routine.  
Peter sighed, crossing his arms. Something about the werewolf stance reminded him of his dad. “No. Otherwise you wouldn’t be the Stiles we all tolerate and ignore.”  
Stiles nodded, glad that Peter caught on to his discomfort. He tried to shove him aside as he saw Derek come down, “Sure.”  
“Stiles, what are you doing here?” Derek groaned, pulling out a chipped mug from the cabinet.  
Stiles waved his arms towards the drinks and food, plucking the mug out of Derek’s hands and replacing it with the frozen lemon drink. “I brought breakfast aannnddd” he snatched the file out of Peter’s hand, ignoring the other man’s hiss of the word “Paper cut!”. “An update on Erica and Boyd’s whereabouts.”  
Derek took the file and looked it over with Stiles summarizing bit and pieces of the each document, “No one from K-9 has found a trace of Erica or Boyd’s scent and the last place that the dogs could track was literally the last place.” He took a long sip of his drink. “It like they basically disappeared or the alphas picked them up and somehow wiped away their scent.” He paused, “Can alphas do that? Can like different types of alphas fly?”  
Peter spat out his drink, coughing as he grabbed some nearby towels. He took one look at Stiles, “One: we’re not vampires. And two) I thought I told you to stop watching those types of shows. It gives actual werewolves a bad name.”  
“You’re just upset because the main werewolf is hot and the werewolves on the other show had better werewolf transformation.”  
Peter looked insulted, “I think we can all agree I’m way more better looking than J-”  
“SHUT UP!” he yelled at the two of them, “I swear it’s like working with five years olds.” He groaned as he pulled up a stool to his table and riffled through the papers.”  
Stiles and Peter eyes each other before shrugging, they were both used to Derek by now. “Well someone is going through their time of the month.” Peter quipped, earning him a eye roll from Stiles and a warning look from Derek.  
“None of their credit or debit cards have been used?” He asked Stiles, focusing on the matter at hand.  
Stiles nodded, “Neither have their phones. These alphas are serious about keeping them away.” He stayed quiet as Derek continued to read. “Derek?”  
Derek didn’t look up. “Hmm.”  
“How do we know they aren’t dead yet?”  
That made Derek look up, he could hear the slight change in Stiles’ voice. “They aren’t dead. At least not yet.” He ignored Stiles whispered “That’s comforting.”  
“They wouldn’t just kill them out right and not say anything. They would make it known.” He assured Stiles, and in some ways himself.  
Stiles nodded, tapping his fingers against his thigh as his foot tapped a different rhythm. “I have another question.”  
“You? Really? I’m shocked.” Derek deadpanned, he saw Peter bite back a smile.  
Stiles noticed as well, “Gotta say, really feeling the love here.” he laid his hands over his heart, “I mean it, I can feel it just turning my heart into ice.”  
Derek sighed, “Ask what you want and go. You shouldn’t be here anyway. Don’t you have a summer job?”  
“Yeah, at the sheriff station.” Stiles explained slowly, “I told you that, like twenty times.”  
Derek shrugged.  
“Really? Does anything I say make into that thick bull headed skull of yours?” Stiles asked snappily. He didn’t realize that had struck a nerve and was only saved by when Peter spoke from his spot on the couch.  
“In our defense, you do talk. A lot.”  
Stiles bit the inside of his cheek to keep from yelling, his hands making a short choking gesture at Peter.  
“What’s the question Stiles?” Derek asked curtly, rubbing his face wearily.  
“I wanted to ask you about eye color.”  
Stiles missed the small jerk of Peter’s attention from his magazine to Stiles and Derek. “What about eye color?” Derek gritted out, obviously he was just as bad at hiding his hate for the question as Peter was.  
“Well why is different for each werewolf? I mean I thought “Okay, it probably is just magnifying their original eye color”, because Boyd, Erica, and Scott have brown eyes and Jackson has blue. But then I noticed Isaac has blue eyes when he isn’t a wolf and brown when he is.” He stopped to look at Derek, “Then you have these hazel eyes.” He motioned towards Derek’s face, “But they glowed blue before you became the alpha.”  
Derek was quiet. “It’s nothing. Just genetics. Born werewolves have blue eyes, bitten ones have brown.” He cocked his head towards his uncle, “That’s why we have blue eyes. And the rest don’t.”  
Stiles wasn’t buying it.  
“But Jackson has blue eyes.”  
“Jackson doesn’t know who his parents are. They could be werewolves.” He was able to cut off Stiles from talking, “Lydia is immune to the bite and somehow that infected Jackson. Maybe his ability was dormant until we gutted him.”  
Stiles leaned against the table, arms folded and nodded. “Sure” he said half-heartedly. “That makes sense.” He slowly pushed himself off and looked at Derek for a few moments too long. “By the way both Boyd and Erica’s parents are doing national interviews for a bunch of national news programs, so get ready for the Alphas to make this more difficult.” He informed them, “Anything else I can find out for you?”  
Derek frowned; usually Stiles didn’t accept things so easily without proof. “No, just go to work or home or something.”  
Stiles patted his hand, “Riiight, you realize it will be just a couple of days till you call me to ask for my help. Again.” He said full of smugness as his face glowed at Derek’s sour face. “Aw come on dude, we’re pretty much partners. Just admit that you like me.” He gave Derek a friendly shove which didn’t even move the werewolf. “Just imagine that we’re like superheroes or something.”  
Derek sighed and exhaled, looking like he was about to relent for just a second, “No.”  
Stiles frowned, “Kill joy.”  
Peter laughed, “I can actually see it. A sarcastic know-it-all who wears a lot of red,” he pointed to Stiles’ red polo, “get’s in trouble and isn’t a werewolf but thinks he can run with them and we have emotionally constipated grump who does care, likes to fight and threaten people, boss them around, heals quickly and-”  
“Your point, Peter?” Derek asked, more annoyed than ever.  
“Just that this relationship reminds me of a certain merc with a mouth and a slightly hairy short tempered Canadian. That’s all.”  
Stiles looked at him accusingly, “You read my comic books again, didn’t you?”  
Peter dropped the magazine he was “reading” to reveal that he was in fact reading Stiles’ comic. “They’re starting to grow on me.”  
Derek looked at the lemonade drink, “I’m going to need something stronger than this.”  
Once Stiles left, Peter waited a few moments till he felt it was right to bring up Stiles’ question. “You do realize he didn’t believe you.”  
Derek stopped typing, he didn’t want to admit that he knew Stiles didn’t believe him. “He’s not going to find out. So what’s the big deal?”  
“How is it that you know that boy so much less than I do and you have known him for three years?” Peter asked in disbelief, “Stiles has never been the one to ignore something, he goes straight for it. Even it’s dangerous or if it’s stupid.”  
Derek knew the last word was directed towards him. “Drop it, Peter.”  
“No, I’m not.” He walked over to Derek, laying his hands in front of him. For the first time in a long time, Derek felt like he was talking to his Uncle Peter and not crazy undead Peter.  
Obviously this conversation wasn’t going to be comfortable.  
“How are you going to explain what happened to you in New York? How do you think Isaac and Scott are going to feel?” Peter asked worriedly, his voice harsh but filled with concern.  
Derek held back the sob growing in the back of his throat, “I won’t have to explain it because Stiles won’t find out. And I doubt that Isaac or Scott would care.” He winced when he heard his voice crack at the last word.  
Derek didn’t want to look at Peter; he honestly didn’t want to see pity.  
“Derek,” he felt his uncle grab his wrist, “look at me.”  
“No.” he moved his wrist away, “and you can’t tell your alpha what to do.”  
Peter didn’t rise to the bait. “But I can tell my nephew to listen to me.”  
Derek finally looked up to see something he hadn’t seen in a while directed at him.  
Love.  
“I never blamed you for what happened. I know it wasn’t your fault.” He squeezed Derek’s hand gently. “Ta-We never forgave you because there was nothing to forgive. I’m just worried that you haven't forgiven yourself.”  
Derek glanced down, not wanting his uncle to see him tear up.  
“Just think about it.” Peter said before he left to go back to his apartment.  
Just as Peter stepped outside he could hear the sound of a laptop crashing into a wall.  
Three days later…  
Stiles was wiped out, he was fully aware that he looked like an extra from a zombie t.v show. But it was worth it, he had finally found something. At least something that he thought was worth it.  
It all started when he decided to look up Jackson’s records at the police station.  
“Stiles, what are you doing?”  
Stiles jumped at the sound, he looked to see Montana, one of the new rookies, stare him down. “You know you’re not allowed to look up files.” She warned him, gently guiding him away from the computer. “You are allowed to file and shred. Remember?”  
Stiles groaned, “Oh come on, that’s secretary work!” he got down on his knees and begged, “Please just let me look up one thing, pppplllleeeaaaassseee! I’ll buy you coffee everyday.”  
“I don’t like coffee.”  
“Flowers?”  
Montana looked offended, “Really?”  
“I’ll buy you those red velvet cupcakes you like from Josie’s?” The cupcakes cost ten dollars but it was worth it if he got a chance to look up Jackson’s record.  
Montana wavered a bit and sighed, “Deal. But you have to go back to filing. If your dad found out that I let you do this he would fire me.”  
Stiles hugged her knees, “You are my absolute favorite! Seriously, cupcakes everyday. Hell, I’ll throw in a red velvet cake!”  
Montana finally looked annoyed, “Stiles, get up from the floor, look up what you have to and get back to work.”  
Stiles slipped bit as he got up, banging his right knee extra hard against the filing cabinet next to the desk. “Gah, I’m alright.” He assured a worried Montana before smiling at the computer screen. He typed furiously and finally found Jackson’s hospital records, along with Peter’s.  
“Damn it.” He cursed, twirling the chair around. It was a long shot.  
“What are you looking up anyway?” Montana asked, pulling a chair besides him.  
“Oh? Um, just some stuff.”  
She eyed him wearily, “Stuff? Really? How lovely.”  
Stiles drummed his fingers against the table, trying to figure out if there was something he was seriously missing.  
“If someone were to die, like legally be determined dead by doctors, and then resurrected somehow, would that be mentioned in police or hospital records?” Stiles asked, aware of how insane he sounded.  
Montana looked at the screen, “How the hell did you pull up hos-” she shook her head, “Never mind, forget I asked.” She sighed, “Why are you looking this stuff up?”  
“I just wanted to see if something matched…” something caught his eye. He clicked on a car accident report that was filled out months ago by Jackson’s parents, right before the Kanima thing started to happen.  
“Jackson’s car was found in the reserve?” He remembered Jackson coming back, his car looked different. But not like new different car. But a brand new same car. “It says that he wasn’t in it.”  
Montana peered at the screen, “Says here that they found him unconscious two miles away from his car.” She read the report carefully and frowned, “There is no way he could have survive that.”  
“What?” Stiles looked between her and the screen, “Why?”  
Montana pointed to the monitor, “Majority of the damage in the car occurred in the front, meaning that he must have hit the rail when he was driving over Caito Bridge. And if speed was a factor that means that he could have been knocked out before the car hit the water.” Montana moved the keyboard a away to demonstrate how the crash could have happened. “Caito Bridge is about ten yards up from water and if the crash file is accurate that means at the speed that Jackson was going his car broke through the railing during impact of airbags.”  
Stiles realized what she was saying, “He would have been too close to the steering wheel when the airbags went off.” Stiles knew from personal experience that those airbags hurt like hell when they were a bit close. He couldn’t imagine the pain from when it was right on your chest.  
“He should have had broken ribs, a punctured lung, or something. But he had none of that.” Stiles wondered out loud. He pulled out Jackson’s medical record from the crash. “It’s stated that he was just unconscious, no bruises on anything.”  
Montana shook her head, “That is the exact definition of a freak accident.”  
Stiles nodded solemnly. It proved something he was scared of knowing.  
Jackson had died. Nevermind the amount of time he had died or that somehow between the time he was in the water and when he pulled himself out of it he was turned into the Kanima.  
Now came the hard part.  
“Anyway you could look up police or hospital reports in New York?” Stiles asked, it was a long shot. But at least he could try.  
“No, we would have to ask someone at 1P.” Montanta informed him glumly.  
“Well how long would that take?”  
She shrugged, “Depending on what you’re asking for, a few days to maybe a month?”  
“A death certificate or an unfinished death certificate for Derek Hale.” Stiles gulped at her expression, half assuming that Montana would run to tell his dad. Every at the station was fully aware of Derek Hale and the trouble that seemed to follow him and hurt others when he was around.  
Montana pressed her lips together, brushing back her mane of curly hair. Stiles was so sure that he would get ratted on that he was already whatever punishment his dad would give him.  
“Considering how notorious he is I bet it won’t take too long.”  
Stiles could hardly contain his surprise when he heard that. “Wait? Seriously?! You’re gonna check it out?! How?” His brain was already creating a thousand ways of how she could break into 1P: Bribe a cop, hack into their server, blackmail worker…the sky was the limit.  
“I have a friend who works for the New York State Department. I’ll give them a call tonight, they owe me anyway.”  
Stiles looked unimpressed, “That sounds boring. Kind was hoping for something more interesting there.”  
Montana glanced at him before closing all the files, “You owe me a red velvet cupcake and an iced soy chai latte from Kenndy’s Bakery.” She pushed his chair over by a stake of old health insurance forms that needed to be shredded, “For life.”  
The next day his father had assigned him to cleaning duty. It was boring as hell to be cleaning his father’s desk and Depudity Shonda’s desk as well, but at least he got to snoop a little at the cases they were working on.  
He carelessly knocked over a stack of books on Shonda’s desk when he heard a loud knock. “You busy?” Montana asked knowingly, she looked over at the fallen books and whistled. “I guess you can clean up later. We need to talk.” She shut the door behind her.  
“Did you find a certificate?” Stiles asked, he was gung ho about looking for any evidence about Derek dying by a rogue hunter in New York or getting into a fight by a rival werewolf. But the idea of almost losing Derek scared more than he wanted to admit.  
He knew that Derek had had close calls before and it had scared him shitless.  
But an official certificate made him feel as if ice was running through his veins.  
“Not exactly.” She sighed at motioned for Stiles to sit. “How much do you know about Derek? Like really know about him?”  
“Family burnt in fire when he was sixteen, crazy ex-girlfriend, dead sister, grumpy and bossy as hell and a pretty twisted sadistic sense of humor.”  
Montana nodded, her face, he finally noticed, looked drain. “Would you say that you two are friends?”  
Stiles stuck out his lower lip, thinking it over. “Probably no.” he looked her, “Why? What happened to him?”  
She pulled out some folded papers from her pocket, smoothing them out on the desk before sliding them towards Stiles.  
It was Derek’s medical history from New York, specifically Albany Medical Center. He read through it, his heart ready to break as he re-read the words again and again and again. “No.” he shook his head violently, “No,” he spat out, “You got the wrong Derek Hale. This can’t be him. No way.”  
Montana looked sympathetically at him, “No, Stiles. That’s the right Derek Hale.”  
He could barely see the words anymore through his watery eyes. “He tried to kill himself?”  
He let the tears run down his cheeks and onto the paper as he re-read everything again. Hoping and not hoping the words would stick. He looked at the date again, “It was only two months after Kate killed his family.” He wiped his face, his bones felt heavy and his legs none existent. He was almost relieved that he was sitting down.  
“According to the police report his sister-”  
“Laura?” Stiles asked, voice broken to bits.  
“Yeah, she found him in his room around ten that morning not responsive.”  
Stiles could feel his chest tighten, he could feel his body becoming warm and cold. “It-It says here he tried to k-kill himself with wolf’s bane. N-Nordic Blue Monkshood.” He said the plant’s name disgustingly. He couldn’t help but remember how Derek looked after Kate had shot him with the wolf’s bane bullet.  
He covered his mouth, feeling his breakfast make its way up quickly. He got down quickly by Shonda’s garbage can.  
“Stiles!” Montana was next to him in an instant as he vomited. “Stiles?” She could see him shaking; his knuckles ghost white as he gripped the rims of the garbage can.  
The sound made both of them wince, once he was done Stiles wiped his mouth; he laid back on the desk. He was still convulsing. “Why did he try to do that? Why?” he sniffed, “He can’t do that! He can’t!” he was getting so worked up, “He-it wasn’t his fault. None of that. That-I hate Kate. I hate her. I-I mean she-she-was…” The tightening in his chest became tenfold. He couldn’t breathe.  
“Stiles? Oh no.”  
He was having a panic attack. “Stiles, listen to me. Your friend is fine.”  
“He-He-tried-kill-himself.”  
Montana rubbed his back, “Yes, but he’s still here. Your friend is still here. Okay? Breathe with me. Come on Stiles.”  
It took a few minutes for him to get his heart rate back to normal.  
“I shouldn’t have told you this.” Montana murmured into her hands as Stiles was still catching his breath.  
“I asked you, remember?” He hit head hard against the desk, “I’m keeping these.” He slowly got up, waving the now folded pieces of paper to emphasize.  
“Are you going somewhere?” Montana asked worriedly.  
“I-I need to talk to him. Now.” Stiles noticed his hands were still shaking; he quickly stuck his hands in his pockets. “I'm fine.” He said before Montana could say anything.  
“Stiles, you’re in no shape to drive.”  
Stiles was already at the door when she said that. He stopped to look at her, remembering those eight painful hellish weeks following the accident. His fingers recoiled from the doorknob, “Yeah, yeah. Okay.”  
It was two hours later that Stiles found himself storming into Derek’s loft. If it was any other day he would have laughed at the startled look on the other man’s face.  
“Stiles?” Derek had heard him coming from the lobby. His heart beat a lone was deafening. “What’s wrong?”  
Stiles was still shaking, still fuming that Derek. The man-no, strike that- their supposed resident werewolf Alpha, could lie about something like this. Could freaking hurt them by hurting himself.  
“Blue eyes mean you’re born a werewolf, right?” Stiles asked, his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. He looked at Derek steadily, knowing that he was about to lie again.  
“I thought we went-“  
Stiles slammed the papers onto his desk, his eyes cold and dead focused on Derek’s shocked hazel ones. Clearly he recognized the name of the hospital. “Brown means you’re a beta. Red, you’re an alpha. Blue, you died and somehow were brought back to life.”  
“Stiles.”  
“Why?” Stiles voice broke again, he didn’t care that his vision was becoming obscured with tears again.  
Derek was resolute.“I-It was a long time ago and I don’t have to explain myself to you.”  
Stiles flailed his arms up, “Are you freaking kidding me? You tried to kill yourself! You didn’t think this was something you needed to tell us? To trust us with?”  
This time it was Derek’s turn to be livid, “No, because I don’t trust you. Why do you even freaking care? This has nothing to do with you!” Derek shouted, eyes turning deep red.  
Stiles paled, not out of fear, but anger. “You think I don’t care?” He asked hysterically. “That I don’t trust you?” he gave out a horrible sounding choked laugh, “Yeah, you’re absolutely right. I don’t care about you at all. That’s why I was willing to cut your arm off for you to live, and let you stay at my house while you were hiding from the cops, that’s why I freaking didn’t tell my dad what you are or Chris Argent were you where, that’s why I held your paralyzed body above water for two freaking hours! That’s why I keep coming to help you to look for Boyd and Erica everyday and any day you need me! Yeah, you’re right; I did all those things and more because I don’t freaking care about you. Not one bit!” Stiles had gone red mid-rant, his entire body shaking as his ADHD and panic attack started to bubble to the top. He didn’t care at all that he was crying now. Tears cascading down his cheeks openly in front of Derek Hale.  
He hadn’t notice Derek walk right up next to him, “Stiles. You have to breath.”  
“You didn’t.”  
That was a low and cheap blow, he could admit that. “You wouldn’t understand.”  
Stiles bit his lip till he felt blood tingle his tongue. “Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s not like I blame myself for killing my mom, right?” he shot a dark look at a surprise looking Derek. “I-I was nine and I started to stop taking my medication. She kept asking me and reminding me, but I was mad so I knocked them down. All those stupid little orange pills just scattered everywhere and I thought it was so cool that I started to knock more things down in the kitchen. My dad told her that the pharmacy had my prescription already ready, so she took me to get them. I-I wouldn’t wear my seat belts because I just hated how they felt, so she did it for me. She had hers’ on…” his voice began to waver, “There was this-this stupid SUV, speeding up behind up. He didn’t see us.” He sniffed, “I didn’t have my belt on and I survived with just a fractured skull and she, my mom who always has a damn seat belt on, always follows the speed limit, died.”  
“You didn’t have to tell me that.” Derek said quietly. His own eyes shiny, he looked down right morose and guilty.  
Stiles let out a bitter laugh, “I didn’t know what was going on when I woke up, my mom was already declared brain dead.” He rubbed the back of his head viciously, till he was sure he had hurt himself. “I wanted to be with her so I made a noo-”  
“Stop.” Derek shook his head, “Enough. Stiles. I get it.” He shouted, not wanting to look at the younger boy. He had never seen Stiles look so broken before.  
“Do you? Because I’m pretty sure you really don’t.” he stepped closer to the Alpha. “I killed my mom.” He flinched, “No one has the guts to admit it, but I killed her. I know that.”  
“You-you didn’t kill her Stiles. It was an accident, you were young.”  
“Then what the hell where you?” Stiles shouted in his face. “How is it that you get to be the broken one? The one who gets to hold onto this freaking out-of-your mind crazy guilt? But for the rest of us, you expect us to go on and pretend we don’t see you ripping yourself in pieces?”  
“My situation is different, Stiles.”  
Stiles exhaled slowly, “Really?” he looked murderous, “How so? Did you help Kate lock all your family in the house? Did you soak the ground with gasoline or light the match? Did you help with the planning?”  
Derek looked stunned, his eyes empty but full of everything including hurt. “I may as well have.”  
“You were sixteen Derek. Sixteen and that God-awful bitch took advantage of you. She let you think that she loved you. You meant nothing to her and she proved it.” He sighed as Derek began to fall apart slowly. Slowly and shakingly, Stiles settled his hands on Derek’s shoulders, “You’re a lot of things Derek, but you’re not a murder. You didn’t kill your family.”  
Derek nodded, head was cast down and after a few seconds, “You didn’t kill your mom.” After a few more seconds he finally looked up. Stiles couldn’t help but feel relieved that he had managed to hit something in Derek that made him cry. “You’re not a killer. Your mom wouldn’t want you to think that.”  
Stiles gave his shoulders a squeeze, “You’re not a monster. No one in your family blames you. They wouldn’t allow it.”  
Derek gulped down his misery and pain, he pulled away from Stiles, nor longing being able to withstand the touch of someone else just yet. “I’ll believe it if you will.”  
Stiles let his arms fall to his sides and nodded, “Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Any mistakes found are mine. No Beta.  
> Story based off of Sansprisedetete's guess about the wolves eyes color.


End file.
